


Reunion

by b_ofdale



Series: Home [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Family Reunions, M/M, good-feelings-only zone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_ofdale/pseuds/b_ofdale
Summary: Unofficially, Hanzo was convinced this 'mission' was simply a way for Winston to indirectly give McCree a chance at meeting with his mother. From McCree’s clenched fists and set expression, he was most definitely aware.But, if he’d been against the opportunity, they wouldn’t be here.





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> It took almost five months, but my first fic of 2019 is here! (technically it was written in 2018, but getting myself motivated to fix it and make it good enough for posting took some time) 
> 
> I'd recommend reading [Where Home Is, and Used To Be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674340) first, since this is the sequel that I had promised months ago now (I'm sorry about that, but hey, at least it's finally up!) 
> 
> [In His Absence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16144940) happens between the two, but it's not necessary to read it to understand this one. (but please do if you wish, I'm very happy with it!) 
> 
> My biggest thanks to [Jordan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonNonsense/pseuds/CommonNonsense) for the editing!

Hanzo was no fool. 

This wasn’t a mission, no matter what Winston liked to call it. 

Officially, he and McCree were asked to gather information about the local gang in Dorado; the two of them knowing how such criminal organizations worked from their past experiences, they were the most obvious picks for the task. Two agents were enough for a mission of this sort, Winston had assured. Better draw as little attention as possible. 

Unofficially, Hanzo was convinced this was simply a way for Winston to indirectly give McCree a chance at meeting with his mother. From McCree’s clenched fists and set expression, he was most definitely aware. 

But, if he’d been against the opportunity, they wouldn’t be here. 

Hanzo grabbed McCree’s wrist, giving it a light squeeze as they walked in the shadows of the city’s streets. McCree glanced at him, his brown eyes showing a hint of uneasiness, uncertainty. He was a confident man, but his history ran deep, and this wouldn’t be a usual reunion. If they found her, it wouldn’t be Hanzo’s place to interfere. McCree would have to do this alone. 

But as always, he wouldn’t be far, and a simple look was enough to remind McCree of that. A small smile was returned, and McCree let out a long breath, shaking off his nerves. 

Leading the way, Hanzo adjusted the borrowed ebony serape around his shoulders. He stopped before a corner to go and do the same to McCree’s own red one, letting his hand briefly linger on his shoulder. Hopefully, if they kept a low profile, they wouldn’t run into any problems. 

“Has Winston told you where she is?” Hanzo inquired, his eyes searching McCree's. Looking for her was not an option for him; he had no idea what she looked like. How much did McCree take from her? 

“Nah,” McCree replied, shaking his head. “Only that she appeared on the cameras from this neighbourhood. Could be anywhere.” 

In turn, Hanzo gave a sharp nod of his head. “We should keep looking, then.” 

As he made to carry on, McCree caught his hand. His grip was warm and gentle, and his thumb grazed Hanzo’s skin purposefully. 

“What ‘bout a good luck kiss?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes, but gladly obliged. His left hand found McCree’s jaw, the beard tickling under his fingers. Though his expression remained impassive, he almost let see a smile as he left a quick kiss to McCree’s lips. McCree pouted. 

“That all?”

“You don’t need luck,” Hanzo said, seriously. “I’ll be glad to kiss you when it doesn’t distract you from something more important.”

“Fair enough.” McCree straightened up, took a deep breath. “I’ll hold you to your word, darlin’.”

Hanzo’s eyes softened. McCree was rarely so. . . preoccupied. “I can’t tell you not to be nervous,” he said, trying to be reassuring, but not unrealistic, either. He reached up, brushing some of McCree’s hair away from his face, tracing the still fresh scar disappearing under his hairline. “I’m supposed to be the pessimistic one—but it’ll be alright.”

McCree sighed. “I hope you’re right.” Then he suddenly perked up, taking Hanzo by the hand. “Come on. Let’s go see the market. We’ll blend right in. And she always loved those.” 

Following his words, McCree’s stomach audibly growled.

Hanzo rose an eyebrow, amused. “And you’re hungry,” he deadpanned. 

“And I’m hungry.”

 

The local delicacies were only a glimpse of what the evening would be: bright, and joyful.

It was good. It made Hanzo forget, for a moment, the awful weeks they'd spent apart not so long ago. Sometimes he thought the grief and the pain would never leave his bones, but with every moment he spent in McCree's company, he felt himself—themselves—heal.

He was, however, more wary to keep McCree safe than he'd ever been.

But the market was merry, and when the sky turned dark and the stars came, it turned into a fantastic display of lights and colours. 

Later, Hanzo had to drag McCree away from an aisle selling serapes in another welcome moment of distraction from the feeling of tension that seemed to follow them everywhere that night. 

In the end, things didn’t quite go according to plan.

But perhaps, in a good way. 

McCree had been keeping a constant eye out, yet as it happened, he was turning his back on the very reason they were here that night. A gust of wind sent McCree’s hat flying. He cursed, looking around wildly to find it through the crowd. 

“Come on now, where—”

And then, just like that, they heard a voice. 

“Jesse?”

Hanzo froze in time with McCree. He turned around first, finding an older woman with caramel eyes and short, greying brown hair standing hesitantly by one of the aisles. The many colours of the festival painted her in hues of red and blue and gold. 

She was holding McCree’s hat in her hands. They were trembling slightly, just enough to be noticed. 

Hanzo hadn’t seen the footage, neither had McCree—but this was, without doubt, the woman Winston had seen on the cameras: McCree’s mother, alive and well and a look of utter disbelief across her face.

“Is—Jesse?”

Reaching out to McCree’s hand, Hanzo gave it an encouraging squeeze. For a handful of seconds he applied what he hoped would feel like a grounding touch, before letting go and slowly taking a step back. He would be there, but this wasn’t his moment, and he stayed only because McCree had made clear that he wanted him to be near. 

Eventually, after his name was spoken a third time and he took one big breath, McCree turned around as well. His face was the picture of confliction. Hanzo had only seen him once like this, months and months ago now, when they’d opened their souls for each other to see, moments before they shared their first kiss. 

In an instant, the lady’s hands clasped over her mouth as she properly saw his face. Followed by a gasp, as despite himself McCree’s lips formed a nervous smile. 

“Huh—hey there, mamá. I—” He was given no chance to complete his sentence; she all but ran to him, wrapping him into a tight hug. Hanzo looked on, unbothered that his presence seemed to have been forgotten, McCree’s full attention set on the woman in his arms. 

Just a few seconds: that’s all it took for him to get over the shock and return the embrace, his smile turning as bright as the burning sun, yet still looking somewhat. . . fragile. As though the opportunity he was given could be taken from him any time now, like so many things in his life had been. 

Something that had appeared so difficult, had instead been easier than either of them could have imagined; through the course of their lives, such a thing wasn’t a common occurrence. 

Most of the words they exchanged escaped Hanzo’s ears, but he caught the smiles and the tears, and that was more than he believed he deserved to know. 

Bending his head, McCree let his mother put the hat back on his head. He let her turn his metal hand over between both of her own, silent while she spoke with a wavering voice. When he replied, he was quick but quiet, as though there was something he was worried would break. She, perhaps—or himself. 

She went to hug her son again, and this time, there was no delay on McCree’s part. Hanzo looked away and smiled. Perhaps in the end, McCree had never truly needed him to be here. He was alright. They were alright. 

In time, maybe everything else would be, too.

“And who's this?”

Hanzo was brought back to attention in an instant. He found the two of them parted, McCree’s mother now looking at him, the expression on her face one of well-meaning curiosity. People passed the three of them by, blurred, much like the passing of time. 

Taken by surprise, Hanzo bowed. His heart started racing. 

“Hanzo Shimada, at your service, McCree–san.”

A soft laugh rang gently to his ears. When Hanzo straightened up, she’d put her hand over her mouth, and he swore that a faint pink colour painted her cheeks. 

“Mamá, this is Hanzo.” McCree paused as he walked her closer, then put his arm around Hanzo’s shoulders. Instinctively, he ever so slightly leaned into the touch. Something in the pit of Hanzo’s stomach fluttered at how warm, confident McCree’s following words were. ”My partner.”

“Oh.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. She worried at the scarf around her neck. “Work partner?”

McCree nodded solemnly, the smile on his face, unshakable. “In work,” he acknowledged. Paused briefly as his hold tightened, reassuring. “And in life.”

She was silent for what felt to Hanzo like the longest seconds of his existence. His body went stiff, bracing itself. Eventually, tears gathered at the corners of her eyes once more, and a pang of horror soundlessly hit him in the gut. But then, in the moment that followed. . . her lips formed a broad, genuine smile. She took his hand in both of hers, looking up at him with what could only be described as pure happiness. 

How welcoming she was left Hanzo speechless; she didn’t know him, didn’t know what he’d done, didn’t know the paths he’d taken. Seeing the look in her son’s eyes. . . it was enough. He opened his mouth, only to close it again. He didn’t know what to say. 

“How wonderful to meet you.” Her voice quivered a bit as she let go to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked back at McCree, then said quietly, “I’m so happy. So happy that—” She paused to catch her breath, wiped at her eyes some more before she took Hanzo’s hand back, and caught McCree’s in the other. “That you haven’t been alone.”

Hanzo glanced at McCree, whose lips formed a small smile, the sadness of which Hanzo only saw because time had taught him to. Much like himself, McCree had been alone, for a long time. Years on the run, on his own, with no place or people to call home. But, his mother didn’t need to know that right now; he wasn’t alone anymore, and Hanzo wasn’t the only one by his side.

“Come now,” she said, “I’ll make some tea. Enough for the whole night!” Her tone was one that Hanzo couldn’t quite tell was of joy, or disbelief. Perhaps, it was a little bit of both. Not a few minutes ago, she’d been wandering a market by herself. Now, here she was; going home to catch up on lost time with her lost and found son. She slid her arm under McCree’s, gently patted Hanzo on the wrist. He nodded, and followed along. 

As they walked Hanzo reached out to McCree, wiping with a soft motion of his thumb the single tear remaining on his cheek. The world wasn’t fixed, perhaps it would never be; but tonight, maybe they could forget, and have a glimpse of all he had missed, and was once more within grasp of again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos are much appreciated, and all comments are cherished! 
> 
> Find me on Twitter @ [bFound_](https://twitter.com/bFound_), on Tumblr @ [softcowman](http://softcowman.tumblr.com), or on my shipping blog, [barduil](http://barduil.tumblr.com)!


End file.
